A Second Shade Of Purple
by hmmga
Summary: Indigo Holmes and Violet Moriarty. The sociopath's daughter and the psychopath's niece. In a twist of fate they attend the same boarding school, and they soon discover that they have a lot more in common than their surnames suggest…
1. Prologue

**Hello all,**

**This is another story from me. It has been completed in the back of an old exercise book, and now all that's left is for me to type and upload! I am going to begin with two chapters to start off, and then hopefully continue with daily updates. It should be complete in about a week.**

**Please comment, it means so much for me to receive feedback for my work.**

**DISCLAIMER: if you recognise it, it's not mine. Rated T to be safe.**

**This introduction is set part of the way through **_**The Reichenbach Falls**_**, and the story is AU from there.**

**Prologue**

It was just another day at Baker Street.

Sherlock was bored, as usual. He hadn't had a case in weeks, and John had to take precautionary measures, that is, hide his gun, and keep a fire extinguisher in sight at all times. He even considered investing in earplugs, but in the end just settled on new headphones for his iPod. After this length of time he had to admit that Sherlock had a point. Even he was starting to crave the excitement that came with a murder or a kidnapping.

Downstairs the outside door opened, and then slammed shut, and Lestrade's heavy footsteps could be heard climbing the stairs. Sherlock leapt to his feet. His expression was neutral, but John could tell that he was giddy with excitement.

"What's happened?" asked Sherlock the minute the DI came through the door.

"There's no case," said Lestrade. "But you need to come with me."

"What's he done now?" sighed John.

"Nothing, but you still have to come."

"Not in the police car, I'll follow behind."

"I'm not in a police car. I brought mine."

"Oh," he said, glancing out of the window. "Yes, I see. You must be pretty desperate to get me there."

"Exactly,"

The journey was silent as Lestrade smoothly negotiated the London traffic. At last they pulled up outside Scotland Yard, and while Lestrade parked, John and Sherlock made their way to his office. John couldn't help noticing that a lot of people were giving Sherlock odd looks. Well, odder looks than normal.

Lestrade's office wasn't empty.

"Ah, Donovan," said Sherlock smoothly. "Still scrubbing Anderson's floors?"

The pair glared at him, but Lestrade arrived just in time to intervene.

"Right,"

He reached into his desk draw, and pulled out some papers. From them he extracted a photograph. He held it up for Sherlock to see.

"Do you recognise this woman? She was found dead in an alleyway a couple of hours ago."

Sherlock's face went completely white. "C-Carol?"

"So you do know her?" gasped Donovan. "Holy…"

"What's her surname?" interrupted Lestrade.

"I – I don't know," said Sherlock, sounding unusually shaken. "She's dead?"

Lestrade nodded. "Sherlock, did you sleep with her?"

John spluttered. Sherlock jerked upright in shock.

"How could _you_ possibly deduce _that_?"

John's jaw dropped, and he peered forwards to study the photograph. It showed a teenage girl in a school uniform, but the photograph was at least fifteen years old. The girl had bright red hair, and pale skin with freckles. Meanwhile the officers were exchanging horrified glances.

"Shit," huffed Lestrade. "That's the last hope gone."

"What _are_ you talking about?" whined Sherlock. He didn't like being left out. Lestrade handed him the photograph.

"Look on the back,"

Neat, rounded handwriting.

_Her name is Indigo Holmes. Look after her – Carolyn._

"Who – what…"

"Indigo Holmes is the baby that is currently being cared for downstairs.

XXX

The girl was undoubtedly Sherlock's. She had his eyes, and his high cheekbones. However the little hair she had was already a soft gingery colour.

For the first time since John had known him, Sherlock was speechless. He held the little girl in his arms as she drifted off to sleep, his face a myriad of emotions that were obviously unfamiliar and frightening for him. His voice, however was calm as Lestrade asked questions about the mother.

"I met her at one of Mycroft's functions. She was… intriguing. The first time I saw her, I couldn't deduce anything. It was very distracting."

"Love at first sight," sneered Anderson. Sherlock glared at him.

"She was playing mind-games with me," he snapped. "Then the next thing I knew, we were both drunk, and…"

He trailed off; both Anderson and Donovan were staring at Sherlock in horror.

"Did you see her again?"

"A few times," he shrugged. "She'd come over occasionally and help me with my experiments. Sometimes we went to her place, occasionally we'd go out for coffee… but I haven't seen her for some months now."

He glanced back down at the baby girl in his arms and sighed.

"Oh, Carol why didn't you just _tell_ me?"

"When _exactly_ did you last see her?"

"I don't know, I'm not very good at keeping track of time."

"Why didn't you say you had a girlfriend?" asked John.

"You never asked. Now, if you don't mind, I think I should take her home."

XXX

Mycroft came around that afternoon, when John texted him an SOS. He raised his eyebrows and Indigo, who was asleep again, wrapped in one of Sherlock's shirts.

"Well this is unexpected," he drawled lazily. "I wasn't sure that John was actually being serious, but now… the mother's dead, I presume."

"Yes," said Sherlock with a taut expression. "I'm not going to tell you who she was, I… I don't really know myself. She never used her surname."

"She was Irish,"

"Correct."

"How can you tell?" asked John.

"Her hair colour and skin tone," said Mycroft.

"And I heard her speak," pointed out Sherlock. "She had an Irish accent, but her diction, and the photograph suggests she went to an English boarding school."

He handed the picture to Mycroft.

"I found several more photographs in the school records, but no names or information. They've been wiped."

"Hm," said Mycroft, who was memorising the photograph. "Are you asking me for help, little brother?"

Sherlock scowled, but nodded grudgingly.

"I'll see what I can do. I was going to come over anyway. A few days ago, I met with John to inform him that a squad of highly trained assassins had just moved into the local area. Now they have all been withdrawn."

"What? Why? Who did they kill?"

"They didn't kill anybody. They were here under the request of Moriarty. Now they've just vanished. I was able to trail a couple of them right out of the country. They just scattered."

"They've gone home?" asked John in surprise. "But Moriarty wouldn't just call them off like that."

"No," agreed Sherlock. "He must have found something else to entertain him."

"Should I be worried?"

"I expect so," said Mycroft. "Moriarty will come around again, however long it takes."


	2. Mirror Image

**1) Mirror Image**

Violet Moriarty paused for a moment to examine her reflection in the mirror. This was a rare occurrence. Much to her Uncle's chagrin, she never usually cared much for her appearance. Today, however, was important. As she placed her new school hat over her ginger plaits, she felt a small satisfaction in knowing she looked remarkably like her mother. She pulled out the old photograph, and compared it with her reflection. She frowned as she noticed the eyes, the eyes that belonged to the father she had never met, the eyes that noticed _everything_. She could tell somebody's life story with one glance. It was _bloody annoying_.

"Violet, my dear, are you ready to go?" called her Uncle James. "The car's here."

"Coming!" she shouted back. Giving her tie one last tug, (it was irritating as _hell_), she picked up her violin case, and ran down the stairs. Her Uncle was waiting at the bottom, and he sighed when he saw her.

"Lynn would be so proud. Her little girl, all grown up."

Violet grinned as her Uncle pulled a camera phone out of his pocket to take a picture. It was rare he displayed any sentiment, but when he did it made her whole day brighter, no matter how bored she was, or how many idiots she had encountered.

Moriarty saved the photo onto his phone as his niece climbed into the car. As he waved, he considered the emotions that were flitting across his mind. There was pride, that was obvious. Then there was that… less tangible feeling that he had taken five years to identify as love. At the time he had attributed it to the girl being Carolynn's daughter. When they were kids, his little sister had meant everything to him.

He should be relieved. The girl was going, and he would be able to focus properly on his crime-ring without having to find a babysitter.

But the dull ache in his chest told him that he was going to miss her.

And that frightened him.

James Moriarty shouldn't _need _anybody.

XXX

"That can't be right at all," said Indigo firmly, her hands on her hips. "This is ridiculous, you are a grown man. How can you not know how to tie a tie?"

Sherlock mumbled something incoherent, and attempted to correct the knot.

"Mrs Hudson!" he called in exasperation.

A few minutes later the tie had been done correctly, and Indigo decided she rather liked the warm feeling of it around her neck. Mrs Hudson then helped her plait her long red hair, and stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"Oh, you look lovely, dear," she sighed.

"She looks like Carol," murmured Sherlock, smiling slightly. Indigo turned to look in the mirror. Her father was right.

The doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of John and his wife, Mary. Their children scampered in before them, but stopped shyly at the sight of Indigo.

"Wow," said eight-year-old Alex. "You look funny."

"Alex!" chided Mary. The six-year-old, Lucy put her thumb in her mouth.

"Why does In-go have to go?"

Indigo rolled her eyes; she had answered that question exactly twenty-three times. Thankfully Mrs Hudson intervened.

"Would you children like a biscuit?"

The young Watsons were immediately distracted.

"Are you sure it's alright for you to look after them Mrs Hudson?" asked John.

"Of course, dear. You go on, I'll see you when you get back."

A couple of hours later, Mary's car was pulling up on the drive of Park House. It was a fairly large boarding school, with about forty students in each year, but Indigo wasn't prepared for the sheer number of vehicles and people that were packed onto the gravel. As they left the car, the noise seemed to hit them.

"Wow," chuckled John, pretending to reel backwards. "I'd forgotten how _loud_ children could be!"

Indigo grimaced as she observed the others. There was so much to _see_. It took real effort not to start spouting deductions. From her father's expression, he was having similar problems. She caught his eye.

"Trophy wife," he muttered.

"Cheating on her husband," she answered, observing another woman.

"Lawyer,"

"Money launderer,"

"Bigamist,"

"Mycroft,"

"Dia – wait, what?"

"Mycroft," she said again, pointing to a space behind Sherlock. He blinked. Mycroft was indeed striding towards them, swinging his umbrella from side to side.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Sherlock.

"Uncle Mycroft, if you've come to spy on me…"

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said stiffly. "Not after what happened last time. I just came to give you something."

He pulled out a black box from his pocket, and handed it to Indigo.

"A locket?" she asked, weighing the box in her hand. She flicked it open and gasped at the beautiful golden heart on the end of the chain. "Thank you, Uncle Mycroft!"

"You're welcome, Indigo. Have a nice term."

He disappeared into the crowd. Sherlock and indigo turned to each other.

"It contains a tracker," they said together.

Sherlock laughed. "The tosser,"

"I expect he means well," said Indigo.

"Just don't forget to take it off if you're thinking of going somewhere you shouldn't."

"Sherlock!" scolded John. "That is _not_ the attitude to take!"

Sherlock's expression didn't change, but Indigo could see a flicker of humour behind his eyes.

"I would tell you to behave yourself," he announced loudly. "But I fear it would be a waste of my time."

XXX

Violet was already bored. She sat in the main hall, pretending to listen to the teacher who was preaching at them about rules and regulations. She stared straight ahead, watching the dust mites float through the air. Occasionally they would be caught by an invisible current, and were flung upwards, only to drift back down again.

"Violet Moriarty…" her head jerked up at the sound of her name, but the teacher was merely reading from a list, and she followed the teacher as instructed. Violet trailed behind the other nineteen children, already feeling out of place.

"Congratulations," said the teacher as she ushered them into the classroom. You have made the top set."

Violet suppressed a snort. Of course it was the top set, she was in it.

"This will be your classroom for the entire year, but where you sit will change each term, depending on your ranking from the exams at the end of the previous term. For now, we shall base it on your marks from the entrance exams that you all sat. Now, let's see…"

She pulled out a clipboard.

"Tied in first place were Indigo Holmes, and Violet Moriarty, so if you could go and take your seats over there…"

Violet complied, and heard the others whisper. She ignored them, more interested in her new tablemate who apparently had her level of intellect. As they turned to face each other she gasped, suddenly understanding the whispers.

Indigo Holmes looked just like her.

XXX

Indigo gaped at her double.

"Who are you?" they asked together. They stopped abruptly and glared.

"Have we met?"

They stopped again, each waiting for the other to speak. The teacher started to seat the others, but the two girls didn't move, their identical eyes examining each other, searching for the smallest of differences. Eventually they found some, and settled into their seats.

"Your fingers are a millimetre slimmer," remarked Violet.

"You're uncomfortable in that tie,"

"You like to play Bach,"

"You prefer Mozart,"

"You grew up without a mother,"

"You grew up with no parents at all."

They smiled sadly at each other before shaking hands.

"I'm Violet Moriarty."

"Indigo Holmes. Your name seems somewhat familiar."

"As does yours."

"There's a tracker in that bracelet, by the way."

"Yes, I know. You have one in that locket. I'd say we both have over-protective Uncles."

Indigo grinned. "How right you are."

Violet smiled back. "I could say the same to you."

XXX

"So… we're related?"

Indigo looked up from her clothes to meet Violet's curious eyes. So she must have reached the same conclusion.

"We must be. It's most likely distant, a coincidence in a combination of genes."

"Hmm," said Violet, turning back to her half-empty trunk. "You thought the same as me. How odd."

"Do you play chess?" asked Indigo eagerly, pulling out some pieces. Violet nodded and her face lit up.

"I never have anyone to play with," she said wistfully. "My Uncle broke the board last time I beat him."

"My father refuses to play," laughed Indigo. "I won my first match against him when I was six, and he's _still_ sulking!"

Their expressions turned serious as they set up the board and tossed for colours. Soon the game attracted the attention of their dorm mates, who watched with bated breath as the competition intensified in the air. After about ten minutes the red-heads looked up.

"Stalemate," they said in astonishment.

XXX

After dinner, Violet slipped off to the booths where the payphones were, taking care to ensure she wasn't followed.

A few minutes later, Indigo did the same.

Violet waited anxiously as the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Uncle?"

"Hey, Violet, how's it going?"

"Really well… look, have you heard the name 'Holmes' before?"

There was a pause, and then:

"Where did you hear that?"

"A girl in my year. We tied in the admissions test."

"You _tied_? She _must_ be one of the Holmes lot."

"You know her?"

"I know the family. Bunch of interfering busy-bodies. Stay away from her."

In the next cubicle, Indigo was having a similar conversation.

"The Moriarty's are bad news," said her father. "Never a good idea to get mixed up with them. A James Moriarty once strapped your Uncle John to a bomb."

"What?"

"You heard me. Look, I'm not telling you to avoid her or anything, but be careful."

A little while later the two girls emerged from the booth at the exact same time. They glared at each other for a moment, before striding away in opposite directions.


	3. Left Behind

**2) Left Behind**

Baker Street was quiet without Indigo. A month had passed, but Sherlock still expected to see her bustling around the kitchen making breakfast, or playing her violin as the sun set over London. She called often, every couple of days to moan about how little she was learning and which member of the class was the biggest imbecile, but it wasn't the same. In the last couple of months before her departure she had deemed herself old enough to accompany Sherlock to crime scenes, (despite John's protests). Now he missed her sharp eyes, and creativity in insulting Anderson.

Sherlock was worried. For eleven years Moriarty's crime-ring had been simmering at a relatively small scale. Now it was on the rise again, a rise that began at the exact time that a girl called Moriarty had started Indigo's school. According to his daughter, the young Moriarty was an orphan, so perhaps Jim had been 'taking care' of her? It would be quite out of character for him to _actually_ care, but Sherlock didn't put it past him to try and mould a child into a weapon. He had a hunch that Indigo would be safe, though. He doubted Moriarty would try anything particularly explosive at the place his ward was staying, especially if he'd just spent eleven years training her.

Sherlock's phone bleeped, and he took it out hurriedly. It was the text he had been waiting for.

_Moriarty's back – GL _

He forwarded the message to John, who replied quickly.

_Shit. Meet you at The Yard? – JW _

_Be there in ten – SH _

"Where was the explosion," he asked the moment he saw Lestrade.

"Opposite St Paul's cathedral," he said. "No casualties or serious injuries. It was intended for effect more than anything else. He left a message."

"Of course," said Sherlock, catching the envelope clearly addressed to him.

_Dear Sherlock,_

_You're it. Let the game begin._

_Love Jim xxx_

Sherlock stared at the note for a moment before grinning.

"Finally, somebody wants to play."

XXX

The tension smothered the whole school.

The day before, rumours had been going around about a massive explosion in London. Now Violet could tell the teacher was about to reveal them as true. The BBC news website was brought up on the interactive whiteboard, and a clip began to play. Most of the class gasped.

A portion of London was burning.

…_The pool where the main explosion took place was thought to have been deserted, but police reports say there were two witnesses. Doctor John Watson, and Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes are currently being treated for minor injuries, and are unavailable for comment, but the question on everybody's lips is: who caused such an explosion? One word is being whispered around the streets of London. That word is Moriarty, but there is no clear meaning connected to it. Is it a new terrorist faction? Or is it a name? Is this the work of one man? This is Maria Jeffrey's, reporting for BBC news…_

When the clip was switched off Violet jumped as Indigo leapt from her seat. She watched as the other girl sprinted from the classroom, white as a sheet. The rest of the class was now giving her odd looks. Some of them were looking between her and Indigo, and obviously putting two and two together.

She sighed. Why oh why did her Uncle have to do something that was so _bloody conspicuous_?


	4. Christmas Surprises

**This chapter is dedicated to Cosplay4Life, and BitChiVampire, so far my only reviewers! Thanks guys, you've been really nice about my work! If anybody else wants to comment you know what to do…**

**Violet and Indigo are my own creations. Everything else is the BBC's.**

**3) Christmas Surprises**

By the time the Christmas holidays came around, Indigo knew that she hated Violet Moriarty. At first she had been delighted to find an equal; it was no fun pitting your wits against someone unless there was an actual risk of losing. Now, however, she detested it. She was used to being the _best_, but now her Irish look-alike was sharing the spotlight in everything Indigo loved. Lessons, orchestra, chess club, fencing… it was infuriating. Of course, she was positive that Violet was equally irritated, which had given her some satisfaction, but now even that was gone. Indigo Holmes would be staying at school for the Christmas holidays, and it was all Moriarty's fault. Mycroft had decided that Baker Street was too dangerous. That in itself wasn't unusual, but this time Sherlock had actually _agreed_ with his older brother. This was a sure sign that for once the situation was as serious as her uncle was making out. Indigo wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but it seemed that Jim and Sherlock were engaged in some perverted form of tag.

The end of term came quickly, and the other children made preparations to leave. Indigo sat huddled in a window-bay, watching as her peers were collected by happy, _normal_ parents. For the first time in years, Indigo felt an overwhelming urge to cry.

A sob nearby made her stop and hold her breath. There was a pause, then a sniffle.

Indigo uncurled her body, and then peeked around the corner. In the next window, Violet was failing in an attempt not to cry. She glared when she spotted Indigo.

"It's all your fault," she said bitterly.

"My fault?" retorted Indigo. "It's your families fault that I can't go home!"

"It's _your_ families fault that my uncle is too busy for me!"

"That doesn't make it _my _fault!"

"Nor mine."

They glared at each other some more. This was going to be a long holiday.

XXX

Violet was bored.

She sat on her bed, playing Christmas carols on her violin, bowing slowly to give them a melancholy tone. A few meters away Indigo was doing the same. Gradually they began to drift into an unconscious harmony. After a while they stopped, and Violet tentatively drew back the curtain between their beds.

"Violet," began Indigo. "Your uncle… is he called James?"

"Yes," confirmed Violet. "Your father's Sherlock Holmes, isn't he?"

"You know of him?"

"Uncle James moans about him. He says Sherlock gets in the way of his work."

"Uncle John says that James Moriarty is a psychopath who likes to create sick puzzles, and then blow people up."

"Really? Sounds awful."

"Uncle John was shaking when he told me about it, but I thought it sounded pretty cool. Your uncle's got some serious explosives."

"Uncle John?"

"John Watson, my dad's best friend. Mycroft's my real uncle, but I don't know him that well. Then there's _granny_."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Uncle James is my only family," said Violet sadly. "I have no grandparents, and I don't even know my father's name."

"What happened to your mother?"

"She died not long after I was born."

"Same with me. Violet, how old are you?"

"I'll be twelve on the second of February."

Indigo choked. "What? So will I!"

"Your birthday is on the second of February?"

"Yes. I don't enjoy it much, though. It's painful for father. He won't admit it, but I can tell. He regrets… he wasn't there when I was born, and didn't even know I existed until after she died."

"Hmm," said Violet, rummaging in her sock draw. She didn't understand the cause of this sudden truce, but she was going to make the most of it.

"This is my uncle," she said, drawing out a photograph. "Don't worry, he always looks this grumpy."

Indigo chuckled and reached into her own drawer.

"My dad's grumpier," she announced. Violet had to agree. Together they turned back to their respective draws, and began to search.

"And _this_ was my mother," they both said proudly, and then froze in shock. It took them a moment to process what they were seeing.

They were holding the same photograph.

The _exact_ same photograph.

They swapped silently, and Indigo read the back of Violet's.

_Her name is Violet Moriarty. Look after her – Carolyn._

It was the same handwriting. The two girls made eye contact, and saw the same conclusion flash across their faces.

Twins.

How was this possible?

"No way," whispered Indigo.

"This is… creepy."

"Creepy? This is just plain weird!"

"Our families are messed up."

"Our _family_," corrected Indigo. "Wow, this is such a…"

"Don't say it," snapped Violet. "There's no such thing as coincidence."

"What a dull life you must lead."

"Think about it. The only photo we have of our mother is of her in her school uniform. Isn't it logical that our relatives would send us to the same school?"

"I think the word you're looking for is Sentimental."

"That as well."

"That as well. There's always an explanation behind coincidence."

"You sound like Mycroft."

"Is that a good thing?"

"No, but…"

Before Violet could protest, Indigo had pulled her into a hug.

"You're more comfortable with physical contact," she noted.

"I know. Apparently I was quite a clingy child. Father says it was annoying."

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Indigo… what's he like?"

XXX

After that, the holidays flew by. Violet had coaxed out every little detail of Indigo's life with their father, and in return Indigo demanded that Violet tell her everything about their uncle. Along the way, they discovered a few things.

"I knew uncle James didn't exactly work within the law," gasped Violet. "But I didn't know it stretched that far!"

Indigo shrugged. "I think it's cool. I know what it's like to be bored."

"So do I, but still…"

Violet was deeply shocked. She hadn't known the full extent of her uncle's crime ring. She felt slightly sickened as she heard about the many attempts to kill Sherlock, her father. Of course, her uncle didn't know that Sherlock was her father, but that wasn't much comfort.

XXX

The inspiration struck indigo just a few days after learning the truth. She sat up suddenly in bed, fumbling with the lamp.

"Violet!"

"Mmft?"

"Wake up, I have a fantastic idea?"

"Sleep, that's a good idea."

Indigo leapt up to shake her shoulders.

"I'm serious!"

"Alright! I'm awake!"

"I think we should switch places!"

"But I like my bed!"

"No, I meant at Easter! You can go back to Baker Street with dad, and I can go off with Uncle James!"

Violet sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Indy, they'll see through us right away!"

"But we have time to prepare, right Vi? We're both fast learners, and you remember how hard we had to look to find differences between us when we first met."

"I'm not sure…"

"Oh come _on_, Vi! Don't you want to meet father?"

"More than anything," she admitted.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Our accents, but I suppose that's fixable."

"Then it's a deal," said Indigo smuggle, climbing back into her own bed.

"I guess," sighed Violet, closing her eyes to go back to sleep.

XXX

**I guess I should just say at this point that I also DO NOT own the rights to **_**The Parent Trap**_**.**


	5. Snapshot

**4) Snapshot**

"Sherlock!" called John, as he opened the door to 221B. "Are you in?"

There was a sleepy mumble from upstairs, and John smiled, scooping up the post from the mat. He tossed it onto the table as he strode into his old flat.

"Morning, Sherlock."

Sherlock was still half-asleep, but began flicking through the letters. Only one appeared to catch his interest.

"Indigo's class photograph," he muttered, slitting the envelope open. "Should brighten up the mantelpiece."

John craned in to look, but before he could spot Indigo, Sherlock dropped the picture with a _thump_.

"Sherlock? What's the matter?"

Sherlock stood frozen, his face white with shock. John collected the photograph and examined it. Then he saw the impossible.

"Jesus," he gasped. "That- that's Indigo, but then who…"

Sherlock didn't reply.

"It must be a trick, she's playing a practical joke or something."

"Perhaps," said Sherlock. "But that's not like her."

"She'll ring tonight, you can ask her then."

XXX

Moriarty opened the white envelope carefully, and slid the picture out. Violet had said she was in the front row, but what he saw nearly made his heart stop. There were _two_ Violets, standing side by side.

It took him a while to react, he just stared at the picture. Then he examined it for the tell-tale signs of Photoshop or other trickery. He found none. He checked his watch.

_Three… two… one…_

His mobile rang.

"Hello, Violet," he said sweetly. "How's school?"

"It's really good," said an enthusiastic voice down the phone. "We've started a new topic in maths, and…"

"Sounds good," he said, cutting her off. "Listen, sweetie, your school photograph arrived.

"Really? Did it come out well?"

"Indeed it did. So well in fact, that there appears to be two of you."

"…Um, what?"

"Yes, two of you."

"I don't understand."

He sighed. She was being truthful.

"Never mind. So, tell me about maths…"

XXX

The twins emerged from their separate phone booths and grinned at each other.

"Nice to know I can fool him," they said together, and burst out laughing.

"Was it alright? Dad didn't suspect anything?"

"Oh, no," said Violet, grinning. "We had a lovely chat."

The two linked arms, still giggling, and went up the stairs for dinner.


	6. April Fools

**5) April Fools**

In solemn silence, Indigo took Violet's bracelet whilst handing over her own locket. She fastened it on her wrist.

"Alright," she said in an Irish lilt. "Dad will be picking you up with Uncle John and Aunty Mary, in a red ford escort."

"And Uncle James will send a car, not sure which one, but it will probably be black," said Violet in a perfect imitation of Indigo's voice. "It will collect you from the back of the school."

"Okay," said Indigo, taking a deep breath. They were both nervous. They were confident with their acts, they had fooled their peers for days at a time, but _they_ were stupid. Their families would be a much bigger challenge.

They gave each other a quick hug, and then Indigo grabbed Violet's suitcase to hurry around the back of the building. Violet stood alone in the dormitory, gathering Indigo's belongings. The front of the school was just as crowded as it had been in September, with people rushing in all directions. Violet picked her way through the crowd carefully, keeping her eyes peeled for a red car.

"Indigo!" called a deep voice. Violet turned, and there was her father.

"Dad!" she cried, and she ran to hug him. When they parted, Sherlock kept his arm around her.

"You've grown a whole inch," he said, scowling in mock displeasure.

"Uncle John won't be pleased," laughed Violet. "I expect I'll catch up with him soon."

Sherlock chuckled as he led her over to the waiting car, to the two others she had seen in photographs. She gave 'Uncle John' a hug, and slid into the back. Mary smiled at her from the driving seat.

"So Indigo, how's school?"

"Fantastic!" she said enthusiastically. "There's this girl, and she's just as clever as me! It's amazing to finally have an equal."

The three adults exchanged glances.

"That's nice I suppose…" said John. "But I bet you could still trounce her at chess."

"Actually I haven't yet won a game," she said sheepishly. "Our strategies are so similar we keep locking ourselves in stalemate."

"Wow," said Sherlock as Mary turned onto the motorway.

Violet prattled on about classes and orchestra for a while, but soon she fell silent, and all she could feel was the steady motion of the car.

When Sherlock looked up to ask his daughter another question, he was amazed to find her fast asleep. He pulled her towards him to check her temperature.

"She's asleep?" asked John in astonishment. "Is she alright?"

"Her temperature and pulse are both normal."

"She's probably just worked herself into the ground again," said John. "She's too much like you."

XXX

Indigo peered nervously out of the window as the unmarked car pulled up outside an expensive townhouse. She stepped onto the pavement, and was led inside.

"Hello?" she called, her Irish accent already in place. "Uncle James?"

A door opened close by, and James Moriarty emerged. He reminded Indigo of a Jack-in-a-box.

"Hi there, Violet!" he smiled, and hugged her. "How was school, was it boring?"

"The lessons were. I made a really nice friend though…"

Moriarty's face flickered at the word 'friend'.

"…And the orchestra was good fun, although the other players are adequate at best."

"That's my girl," said Moriarty, ruffling Indigo's hair. "I've got a real treat for you this holiday. I've decided that you're old enough to begin helping me with my work!"

"You mean your crime ring?"

He froze. "How do you-"

"Oh, please, it was hardly a difficult deduction."

Moriarty narrowed his eyes. "You sound like… never mind. Yes, you're right. It's time for me to teach you to be a Moriarty! Obviously I will only show you part of it. There are some aspects I do _not_ want you getting involved in, and you must not pry. Is that understood?"

Indigo nodded seriously. This would be an interesting holiday.

XXX

Violet stepped onto the crime scene with some trepidation. It had been mere minutes since her father had dragged her out of bed to look at a corpse. She rubbed her eyes and shivered, drawing her jacket closer to her. Sherlock threw her an odd look; he didn't seem cold at all.

"Indigo," greeted Lestrade. "Good to see you again."

She nodded to him absently, following her father. In a dilapidated house was a woman lying dead.

"Moriarty," announced Sherlock suddenly.

"What?" asked Violet, snapping to attention.

"Lestrade! Moriarty's behind this one! Her wrists had an 'M' carved into them, but the mark was made after she died. Cause of death… I'm not entirely sure. Some sort of drug. There are no other marks on the body. What do you think, Indigo?"

"She lived and worked nearby. Two children, faithful husband. She wasn't involved in any extra-marital affairs, or illicit activities. A cold-blooded murder. Moriarty did this?" Violet asked, her mouth dry.

"Not personally, he doesn't like to get his hands dirty. He would have assigned one of his lackeys to do it."

"I see,"

Violet wandered back out to the street, digging her phone out of her pocket.

_New case, 36 yr. old woman killed by M. Cause of death – poison/drug yet to be identified._

About ten minutes later she got a reply.

_Try testing for clostridium botchilinum. That appears to be his favourite._

Violet snapped her phone shut as her father approached, but it beeped again.

_Virtually undetectable. Look for needle-marks, and check tissue around it. Otherwise check saliva._

"Who's texting you?"

"Vi, friend from school. She's a bit of a night-owl."

"Like us, eh?"

"Exactly."

Violet stifled another yawn.

XXX

Uncle James turned out to be a bit of a split personality. It was obvious that he adored his young niece, but in every other matter he was a psychopath. He and Indigo spent hours discussing murders and puzzles, and the best methods to smuggle cocaine, but he did it with such affection that Indigo couldn't help but find it intriguing.

In her mind she began to hatch a plan. James would rant at length about 'Sherlock and John'_,_ and how he was going to get his revenge. Indigo just wanted them to stop their crazy battles, but to do that she knew she would have to catch their attention, and that would take something dramatic…

She plucked out her phone.

_I have an idea! – IH_

_It's three in the morning! – VM_

_So? We need to set up a meeting between uncle and father – IH_

_Why? Are you crazy? – VM_

_Probably, but at the rate they're going, one of them is going to get killed – IH_

_I know, but what can we do? – VM_

_Spring a surprise, a 'come out and play and bring a gun' kind of meeting, and then we turn up. Should stun them into silence – IH_

_Silence? Have you _met _our relatives? What if they don't want to go? – VM_

_Believe me, they will – IH_


	7. Game Over

**This is the penultimate chapter, with the epilogue to be posted tomorrow.**

**Thank you to everyone who's bothered to read and review! **

**6) Game Over**

Uncle Mycroft had come to visit, and he was getting on Violet's nerves. Him and Sherlock had bickered for a good half an hour, and Violet had had enough. She picked up her violin, and played a gentle tune in an attempt to block out their voices. Uncle Mycroft narrowed his eyes, but Violet kept playing. He had been watching her since he had arrived, and it was making her uneasy. She switched pieces, and Mycroft leapt out of his chair, grabbing Violet's wrist.

"What's going on?" he hissed, peering into Violet's face. Sherlock let out an angry exclamation.

"Mycroft let her go!"

"Who are you?" he whispered menacingly, but so quietly her father wouldn't hear. "You are not Indigo."

"What…"

"Don't lie to me!"

Violet looked pleadingly up at Mycroft, who indicated for her to follow him out. She put down her violin and left Baker Street, climbing into a car that would have made her Uncle James jealous. As Mycroft followed her in she texted Indigo.

_About to be busted by Uncle Mycroft – VM_

_Tell him the truth; he can help us – IH_

When the car started moving, Violet spoke first.

"What gave me away?"

"Many things. The pattern of your freckles is wrong, your fingers are slightly broader, but it was your violin playing that made me certain. Indigo never plays Mozart willingly. It was a good disguise, but not good enough for me. Now where is my niece?"

"Indigo is perfectly safe, but this is no disguise."

"What?" said Mycroft, confused. He began running his hands through her hair and over her face, looking for the non-existent wigs, hair dye and makeup. "You look just like her."

"That is because I am her twin."

Mycroft's frown deepened. "Indigo doesn't have a twin."

"Yes, she does, but neither of us realised. My name is Violet Moriarty."

It took a while for the full force of what she had said to sink in.

"MORIARTY?" he roared. Violet winced.

"James Moriarty is mu – our – uncle," she admitted in a small voice. "Indy is with him now."

Mycroft merely gaped at her. For the first time in his life he was lost for words.

"Oh Sherlock," he muttered. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

Violet looked down at her hands.

"You won't give me away, will you?" she asked anxiously. "We're trying to set up a meeting between father and uncle, to tell them the truth. Indy said you could help us."

"I suppose I could, but you are asking me to lie to my brother."

"Don't try to act all sentimental. You lie to him all the time."

"Indigo's observation?"

"My own."

A flicker of a smile danced across his face.

"Very astute. I shall help you but…"

"What do you want?"

"A contact number for Indigo. I think we need to have a little chat."

"Consider it done."

XXX

Indigo brushed out her hair, letting it hang down her back. It stood out starkly against the black fabric of her t-shirt. She checked her reflection. Black t-shirt, leggings and sneakers. Across the other side of London she knew that Violet was getting dressed into exactly the same outfit. They had to look completely identical for the plan to work. In the next room her uncle's phone beeped, and she knew it was _the message_.

"Violet!" he called. "I'm going out!"

"Okay!" she shouted back as he slammed the front door behind him. She hurriedly slipped out the back way, into Mycroft's waiting car.

XXX

Sherlock slipped quietly through the door and walked alongside the swimming pool, gun already in hand. Moriarty was waiting.

"Ah, there you are," he drawled. "Now, what is it you wanted to talk about?"

Sherlock was confused. "What do you mean? _You _called _me_ here."

"No, _you _called _me_ here," said Moriarty, frowning.

"Nope, I definitely didn't," said Sherlock. They stared at each other. "So what are we doing here?"

"I can explain," said a soft Irish voice from the shadows. Moriarty flicked his head around.

"Violet? What are you doing here?"

"Explaining," said the voice again. "And actually…" her voice changed to an English accent as she stepped from the shadows. "I'm not Violet."

Sherlock's jaw dropped as his brain tried to process what he was seeing.

"Indigo?"

"That's right, hello dad."

"And hello from me," said another girl, they stood side by side. The two men thought they were seeing double.

"Indigo?" asked Sherlock quietly. "What is this?"

The girls exchanged glances.

"We'll explain at Baker Street," they said together. "Mycroft has a car waiting. Feel free to put the guns away."

XXX

John leapt out of the cab and sprinted towards the door of 221B. He had received a text from Sherlock that simply read: _Help me, 221B_.He wondered what trouble the detective was in this time. When he arrived everything seemed a little too peaceful. Then he reached the living room door, and stopped in his tracks.

Moriarty was sitting on the sofa, looking distinctly uncomfortable and next to him…

John rubbed his eyes and blinked hard, but the image stayed the same.

There were two Indigo's, sat calmly side by side just as they had been on the school photograph. They looked up sharply as he entered the room.

"Hello Uncle John," they said in unison. John sank into his old armchair.

"Sherlock what-"

"Don't ask me," he said grumpily. "You remember Jim?"

"Of course,"

"JIM?" spluttered the two girls. Moriarty looked embarrassed.

"Actually, I'd prefer James, I'm not working."

"Very well. Now, girls, what is going on?"

"Our names are Indigo Holmes and Violet Moriarty," said the girl on the left. "We're twins, but we didn't realise until we met at school."

"We worked out that we had the same mother," continued the right-hand girl. She took off her shoe, and pulled two photographs from under the insole.

"Sherlock is our father."

Moriarty leapt to his feet.

"You slept with _my sister_?"

"I didn't know she was _your_ sister!"

"Doesn't matter, I should still punch you for it, brother's rights."

"It wouldn't solve anything, it still happened."

"It'd make me feel better."

"Calm down," instructed John. "You have bigger things to worry about."

The two men glared at each other.

"I suppose fighting isn't a logical solution to this situation," said Sherlock.

"This _situation_ isn't logical!" exclaimed Moriarty. "How can I not have known?"

"Mum obviously covered her tracks quite well," said one of the twins. "Dunno why though."

There was a short silence, and then John spoke up.

"Are you going to tell us which of you is which?"

"Oh no," they said together.

"We'll let you figure it out," said the girl on the left.

"A little _puzzle_ to keep you entertained," said the other.

They grinned wickedly as the three adults looked between them.

"Uncle Mycroft would know right away," she continued. "He was the only one who realised there'd been a swap. He nearly gave the game away."

"Won't he be pleased to learn that he's cleverer than the three of you put together."

John chuckled at their taunts. Indigo had been deviously smart on her own, but together the twins were lethal.

"It's not funny," snapped Sherlock, making the twins giggle.

"We're going to sleep," they announced, getting up together. "See you in the morning."

Before they could vanish up the stairs Mrs Hudson trotted into the flat, and stared. The twins raised identical eyebrows.

"We'll let you explain," they said. "Good luck with that."

And on that note they pranced up the stairs, their laughter echoing down to the adults left behind.


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Indigo dressed silently, trying not to wake her sister. She was well practised, having been following this routine for the last few days, and soon escaped downstairs for coffee. As she waited for it to cool she revelled once more at being back in her own place. Violet's room was nice, but Baker Street was her home. When she finished the mug, she padded back upstairs, selected some clothes for Violet, and dragged the curtains open noisily. Violet must have had enough sleep by now. Her twin moaned sleepily.

"Indy!"

"Rise and shine! Get dressed quickly, Lestrade will probably come around with a case today, and dad said we can both go with him!"

"Just ten more minutes!"

"Nope!" she pulled the duvet off her sister, who grudgingly got up.

"You are insufferable."

"You love me really. Ready, Purple?"

"Only if you are, Purple."

They darted down the stairs, and fixed themselves breakfast.

"Eat quickly," said Sherlock from his armchair. "Lestrade is on his way with a case."

They gobbled their cereal quickly before settling on the sofa, a science textbook between them. A few minutes later heavy footfalls indicated Lestrade's arrival.

"Sherlock…" the DI began, but then there was silence.

"You know," remarked Indigo. "People seem to have developed a habit of stopping in that doorway."

"There's going to be a hole in the carpet," continued Violet. "Mrs Hudson will be most upset."

"Just hurry up and tell dad about the case. We're not really in the mood to explain _again_."

Lestrade stood gaping for a few more minutes until Sherlock crossed his arms.

"Well?"

"Um… d-double murder. Victims found in a locked room, no trace of the killer."

Sherlock nodded and grabbed his coat.

"Girls, are you coming?"

"Alright,"

"It's a pretty gruesome scene, Sherlock."

"They can wait outside, I'm sure they will find a lot to talk about."

Indigo and Violet exchanged a wicked grin.

"The address is 14 Brockenhurst Street, and yes, you can take a cab."

The girls rose as Lestrade left, and got ready to leave.

"Any word from Uncle James?" asked Indigo softly. Sherlock shook his head. Violet nodded in a resigned manner.

"He said he had some business to take care of," she said. "He could be any number of days."

The taxi drive was mostly silent, and soon they were climbing out onto the pavement.

"Freak's here!" called Donovan, turning her back to them.

"Hello Sally," said Indigo sweetly. Donovan turned to grimace at her.

"Nice to see you again," said Violet from her other side. Donovan turned around sharply and yelped, staring between the two. Everyone turned to stare.

"Have fun," smirked Sherlock, ducking under the police tape and into the house. The twins smiled sweetly at the shell-shocked officers.

"So, what have we got today…" began Violet, her eyes twinkling. Indigo, grinned, eager for the game to begin. "Blimey, they're a boring lot. He had baked beans for breakfast."

"She missed out on morning coffee."

"She just dumped her boyfriend."

"He was the one that was dumped."

"He's going to propose tonight."

"He's just been promoted."

"She hasn't realised she's pregnant."

"Anderson didn't make it home last night, obviously got a new mistress to replace Donovan."

Violet hesitated. "Um, you might want to look again."

Indigo stared, and then it hit her.

"Ah," she said. "Okay…"

The two burst out laughing.

"Didn't know you had it in you, Anderson," teased Violet.

"Good, was he?" continued Indigo. "He's In the Met as well?"

People were laughing now, and Anderson had turned beetroot red. The twins were all up for continuing, but a car drew up behind them and everybody fell silent as a man stepped out from behind the tinted windows.

"Uncle James!" the twins cried together, running towards him. He smiled broadly and tucked one under each arm.

"Hello girlies! Did you miss me?"

"Of course not," they chorused. Moriarty shook his head in mock sadness. "Well, I need a little word with your father, so why don't you wait by the car?"

They nodded obediently, and he sighed, and he muttered something indistinct, about 'peas in a pod' and 'bloody puzzles'.

XXX

It was no surprise to see Moriarty waiting for him. After all, this was his crime.

"Very efficient, Jim," he said smoothly. "Nicely done."

"Why thank you, but it was nothing really. They were just a couple of loose ends I had to tie."

"Hmm, so I noticed. The girls were quite worried about you, taking off like that."

"Won't happen again. I just needed to clean up a few of my operations. I had quite a nice challenge planned for you in a few days when Violet went back to school… but of course that's out of the question now."

"Really? How thoughtful of you."

"I can't kill you after all this. Our girls would be devastated."

"I suppose I share the sentiment."

There was a moment's silence, as the two men studied each other across the police cordon.

"So, my dear," said Moriarty, a wan smile stretching across his face. "What are we going to do now?"

TO BE CONTINUED?

**I just thought I'd take the opportunity to say thank you to everyone who's bothered to read this, and to my reviewers. There may be a sequel, but it depends what people think. I do not own the rights to Sherlock Holmes OR The Parent Trap.**

**Until the next time.**


	9. SEQUEL!

**For everybody who has waited patiently for a sequel… HERE IT IS AT LAST!**

**Thanks for all the support and reviews for this story.**

**From Opposite Ends of the Scale**

**Sequel to A Second Shade of Purple. Sherlock and Moriarty have formed an uneasy truce, but a new threat is rising. Sebastian Moran wants to take over where Moriarty left off, and he has his own ways of making them dance. Meanwhile, the twins are facing the fresh challenges of sixth form. Can they still stand together while they're steadily growing apart?**


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